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strawberrysunsets · 1 year

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The Empty World (Ch. 8)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant settles into their new world at Transigen's laboratory.

Warnings: Injury, swearing, mention of death, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: Sorry for disappearing for literally 4 months! But... here's a new chapter! 😬

P.S. I changed it so that the MC/Reader is going by the name 'Ray' while at Transigen (an old nickname, given to them by a friend) cause I was getting tired of using y/n 👍

Chapter 8: Assignment

That night, you lay in the darkness without even trying to sleep. It was futile, for whenever you closed your eyes, you were inundated by all the images and sounds you tried to push away by day.

Gunfire.

Shouts; screams.

Logan’s voice, calling your name; telling you that if you’d only gotten there a little sooner…you might have all made it out together. One small, strange family; the only thing you’d ever wanted. Except that Caliban and Charles had already been gone by the time you reached North Dakota, and there was no bringing them back. Any of them.

You let out a sharp breath and rolled over in the darkness, curling your wings in around you as you stared out the window. The lights of Mexico City twinkled back at you; replacing the stars with a thousand points of neon and lighting the sky with a purple haze. You wondered if somewhere out there, any trains were passing by in the night. Living at Logan’s compound in New Mexico, you’d grown used to the sound of the freighter passing on the tracks, and shaking the whole building with its rumbling progress. It had grown comforting, in a way; making you feel as if you weren’t the only one alone in the darkness.

There was nothing, and no one, to keep you company now.

***

The light of day was an unwelcome intruder when it finally dragged you from sleep. Somewhere, an alarm was going off.

You stumbled around blearily to shut it off, knocking over a lamp with your wings in the process.

I have to dissipate these fucking wings, you thought with half a mind, before collapsing back onto the bed with a sigh. You couldn’t live like this forever, but the thought of engaging with your powers again – of drawing on the Ether – was too much for right now. Because it brought up all the memories of working with Caliban as you learned to control it, and those were the memories you were currently trying to push into the darkest corner of your mind.

But you had something else to focus on, for today; for you’d slept well into the afternoon, and had a meeting to get to. You showered and dressed, wincing with every movement that pulled at your still-healing shoulder and the burns along your calves, then set off in the direction of Ansley's office.

Some personnel were just leaving when you arrived, and you stood back to let them pass, shooting them cold glares as you did. You didn’t know who they were, but figured that anyone working for Transigen – save the nurses and aids, who seemed like decent people – were probably no good.

Can’t hurt to be hostile. It was your new motto.

“Come in,” Ansley called, as you turned to enter his office. “I trust you’re finding your way around alright?”

“Oh, perfectly,” you muttered, lowering yourself into one of the cushioned chairs facing his desk. “I’ve always wanted to live in a research lab that failed its ethics review.”

Ansley raised a brow, and finished typing something on his laptop before turning his full attention to you.

“Yes, well. Most personnel have accommodations outside the facility, but it seems like this arrangement might be better suited to your situation. For the time being, at least."

You shrugged a wing noncommittally.

“Now – we have a few things to discuss before the team briefing. Your contract, here; and these regulations pertaining to the facility.”

After a bout of paperwork during which you scratched your name – not your real name; just Ray, the old nickname you’d given them to use – onto more dotted lines than you cared to count – the terms and conditions for life, it seemed – you heard a pair of heavy footfalls approach the office’s door.

“Ansley,” a drawling voice greeted, as Pierce and another man entered the office. You stiffened at Pierce's arrival, and eyed him with all the trust one might reserve for a feral tiger with which they shared a cage. He sat in the chair across from you, and sighed as he motioned for the other man – someone dressed in dark combat gear; probably another Reaver – to close the door behind them.

Pierce was wearing a dark button-up shirt and fatigues of the kind you’d come to associate with him. His gaze met yours as he sat, and his eyes seemed serious beneath the shadowed fall of his hair.

“Pierce; Clark,” Ansley greeted. “Ray, you’ll have met Pierce,” Ansley introduced, nodding towards them. “Our Head of Security. And Andrew Clark; our Facility Security Coordinator. You’ll be working closely with them on most of your assignments. Particularly this first one.”

Your gaze flicked coldly between the two men, trying not to linger again on Pierce, and then moved back to Ansley. “And what exactly is my first assignment?”

Ansley nodded slightly, sighing through his nose as he leaned back in his chair. “Pierce, do you want to do the honours?”

Pierce’s gaze slid to you once more, and he tapped his metal fingers absentmindedly on his knee. The bruises you’d spotted on his neck yesterday were now concealed by the collar of his shirt, so for all intents and purposes he seemed back to his normal self.

“Recon and acquisition,” Pierce said. “We’ll be getting intel on some friendly neighbourhood competition, and taking back something of ours.”

Your gaze shifted from Pierce, back to Ansley.

“A few months ago,” Ansley continued, “one of our top researchers – Dr. Johan Hansfeld – was poached from our ranks.”

“The competition offered him bigger bucks,” Pierce cut in, for your benefit.

“Unfortunately, he took some important research with him when he left,” Ansley continued. “Which we’re looking to recover. He’s currently working with Zenith Labs, and we’re looking to remove him from their ranks, as well.”

You sat back, a cold feeling creeping over your skin.

“So you want me to steal something, and kill someone?”

Ansley waved a hand airily, though his expression darkened slightly. “You’re returning to us what is already ours. And we’ll simply be reminding Johan of the intellectual property he owes us, before he goes into a convenient retirement in the Bahamas. In any case – your purpose is not to question your assignments. It’s to carry them out.”

Your hackles rose, but you were saved from replying by a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Ansley called, as a woman with dark, curly hair entered the office, carrying a stack of laminated files.

“Ansley; good to see you,” she said, approaching to shake the hand he extended as he stood.

“Thank you for joining us,” Ansley said. “We’re glad to have you. Pierce; you’ve met Gloria,” he said. “And Ray, this is Gloria Fueyo; an accomplished journalist. She happens to share our interest in exposing the corruption at Zenith Labs, and has a briefing on their facility's layout for you and Pierce’s team to study. Your assignment will take place a week from today.”

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur, as you studied floor plans and tried not to think too much about what exactly it was that you’d gotten yourself into. Lack of sleep and the constant throbbing pain of your injuries muddled your thoughts, though, and doubt began to creep into the spaces between them. You were going to raid a laboratory, at night, and kidnap a scientist. There’d be security personnel guarding the lab, but Pierce would take them out for you, as he'd assured you. He was a mercenary – a trained killer – and you were working with him.

What would Charles, Logan, and Caliban think of me now? You thought, rubbing your temples. What would anyone?

You limped down to the cafeteria to get food when it grew dark outside Transigen’s windows, and then returned to the infirmary to have your wounds checked before heading back to your rooms. The antiseptic tang of the medical bay was nearly growing comforting, given your frequent visits, and you let a nurse – not Benjamin, and you’d been too tired to learn their name – work away at the dressings on your shoulder and calves without comment.

“You’ll be alright, if you try not to strain your shoulder,” the nurse told you, the lilt of her accent lending the words melody. “And try not to get the bandages wet.”

You took the pills she proffered, and gazed up at the fluorescent lights as you waited for them to kick in.

You could see yourself falling into a rhythm, here – in this soulless building, with its concrete walls and unquestioned orders. It would be a mind-numbing routine of waking, showering, carrying out assignments, and eating tasteless food. A routine which didn’t require thinking, or feeling. And perhaps it was better, that way. Perhaps that was the best way to get through this indentured servitude, to which you felt as if you'd sold your soul.

A line of hot liquid traced down your cheek, and you sat up as the tear trickled into your hair. Late as it was and exhausted as you were, you should probably get back to your rooms. Besides, you didn’t want the nurses and aids to see you cry.

***

The way back to your rooms felt longer than usual, and you got confused along the way, taking the elevator a floor above where you’d meant to get off. You sighed as you leaned against the hallway's nondescript grey wall, waiting for the elevator’s blinking light to return for you.

In the quiet, you couldn’t help but reach for your power.

It had been blocked to you since North Dakota, like a limb grown too numb to feel, but given the day's events, you were itching to regain even the slightest feeling of control over your situation. Harnessing the Ether again would mean being able to dissipate your wings – which would be an incredible relief, given the astounding inconveniences associated with them. Having feathers tickle your neck twenty-four hours a day did not particularly lend itself to mental stability.

You knew the effort was futile, but tried to concentrate anyways, ignoring the ding of the elevator as it arrived. You braced yourself against the wall, and dug for the Ether. For a moment, lights blossomed behind your closed eyelids, and a wave of heat washed over you. Then the power trickled from your grasp, like so much sand escaping through your fingers.

The cold shock hit you a moment later, as the effort of trying to push past the block took its toll. Tremors wracked your body, and you slid to the floor, feeling suddenly sick. A throbbing pain took up behind your temples.

From somewhere nearby, a door opened, and footfalls approached. Then someone was kneeling before you.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Pierce asked. He crouched before you, gaze sweeping over you in assessment. You worked to catch your breath, blinking to clear your vision of stars.

“I—I’m—” you began, taken aback by his sudden presence. And his proximity. He reached out a hand to steady you, a look akin to concern flashing across his face.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, dumbly.

He cocked his head with a frown. “You in the habit of collapsing in hallways?” He returned, ignoring your question.

“It’s a pastime,” you replied, using the wall for support and struggling to stand as the dizziness dissipated. He helped you up, threading a strong arm beneath yours to lift you as you regained your footing. “Well, seems like we should get you to the med-bay, in that case," he replied evenly. As if this was just another normal night of finding people collapsed in hallways.

You shook your head and breathed out a laugh. “I just came from the infirmary. I don’t feel like going back there tonight.”

Pierce stood still for a moment, his body pressed to yours where he supported you, eyes narrow and unreadable. Then he sighed. “Well, you wanna sit down for a minute?” He asked. “Seems like you’re on your last legs.”

You glanced up at him, uncomprehending, then made sense of the door which stood ajar a few paces down the hallway. Light streamed from it. That’s where he’d come from. An office? His rooms? You didn’t know. But getting all the way back to your rooms didn’t sound like much fun right now, and you were pricked with a vague sense of curiosity as to what lay beyond the door.

You sighed, letting your head droop in exhaustion for a moment. Then – “Sure,” you replied.

Pierce adjusted his grip beneath your arms, and helped you towards the door.

Quite the gentleman, if I didn’t know him better than that.

This close, he smelled of night air from the city outside, and a hint of musk that must belong to a cologne. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and you were reminded suddenly of the first time you'd met him. Deep in the forests of Maine; when you’d been prey, without knowing you were being hunted.

You shook the thought away, and focused on not falling on your face as you entered the room.

It was simple and functional, like yours – but larger, and with adjoining rooms leading from it on either side. This main room held chairs, and a table by the window, whose wooden surface was strewn with a number of items – papers, a jacket, a radio, a holster.

Pierce led you towards the nearest chair, and you fell into it, wincing as the movement ignited the pain in your temples once more.

"Water?" Pierce asked, disappearing into the next room and returning a moment later with a glass.

"Sure," you said belatedly, taking it from him.

You glanced up at him as he crossed to the chair opposite you and dropped into it, off-put by the strangeness of the situation.

This man was one of your greatest enemies. He was a large part of the reason your life was currently in shambles, and was indirectly responsible for the deaths of at least two of the people you loved. Yet he was offering you a glass of water.

Pierce appeared to be the picture of ease as he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. He raised a brow as he caught you watching him, and tilted his head knowingly.

“Do you live here?” You asked, to redirect his attention.

He eyed you evenly, face impassive. “Sometimes, if work goes late,” he replied.

You grunted, and placed your water on a nearby table to massage your temples. “So why’d you invite me in?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a very decent person,” he said mockingly, leaning forwards in his chair. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret. You’re no use to me dead.”

You eyed him, then tried to reposition yourself in your chair, uncomfortable with the angle at which your injured shoulder was resting. The better question was, why had you agreed to come in?

“You got shot, didn’t ya?” Pierce asked, his gaze following your movement. “Your shoulder.”

You nodded, then shot him a pointed glare, but his focus was on the bandages exposed by your sleeveless top. He rose to approach you. He raised a placating hand as he did, in the same motion he’d made the other day. No need to worry, it said. I mean no harm.

Knowing him, that was doubtful.

Pierce came to a halt beside your chair, and you caught your breath as he did a cursory examination of the bandages, fingers skimming your shoulder and back. You couldn’t help but shiver at his touch.

“You should ice this muscle, and this one,” Pierce said, motioning to two points behind your shoulder blade. “They tell you that?”

You shook your head, startled out of words by the contact.

“Yeah, well.” He said, hands falling away. “They ain’t been shot in the shoulder before.” He flashed you a grin, and was about to turn away when his gaze caught on the bandages on your legs. “What about these?” He asked, crouching to examine them.

“Burns,” you said, taken aback. “Second degree. Same as you, I’d guess.”

He raised his eyes to meet yours, and for a moment you knew the memory of the fire at the farmhouse was blazing bright in both your minds. Then he stood, and crossed the room to disappear into the adjoining one.

“Could be,” he called back, amidst the noise of items being riffled through. “Or maybe I got out without a scratch. That’d be good for publicity.” He returned, a pair of tensor ice packs held in each hand.

“I always keep some of these around. They’re a neat little trick; cut the hell out of the healing time.” He pulled his chair up beside yours.

He would know that, you guessed, given his line of work. He'd probably had his fair share of injuries, bravado aside.

Pierce unwound one of the ice packs, and leaned down to reach for one of your legs. Then he paused, glancing up at you. “This alright, sweetheart?”

You cleared your throat. To be honest, you didn’t mind his attention – which was its own brand of madness. There were layers of weirdness to being here with him that you weren’t ready to unpack yet, but you couldn’t help but enjoy having someone see you – consider you – beyond the impersonal examinations conducted by the doctors and nurses.

Pierce shot you a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I’m used to putting these things on other people, but I don’t mind trying."

“Uhh –” you said uncertainly. “Sure. If it’ll help.”

Pierce leaned down and lifted up one of your legs, resting it on his knee before beginning to wind the tensor pack atop the bandages covering it.

“You been into the city yet?” He asked, focused on the ice pack as his hands worked. His cybernetic arm seemed just as competent as his human one at the task, though its metal fingers were cold when they brushed your exposed skin.

“Not yet,” you replied. “Been a bit busy signing my life away to corporate.”

Pierce moved onto the next leg, his mussed hair falling into his eyes as he did. He brushed it away absentmindedly. You hadn’t noticed it before, but you saw now that he wasn’t in his usual work attire. He wore a black t-shirt, and his hair seemed rumpled, giving the impression that he was distinctly off-duty.

“Well, there are some nice spots. Damn hot in the summer; but the coast is real nice.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be getting out to do much sight seeing. I’m one step away from being a prisoner here–" you said, venom entering your voice “–but you know that.”

Pierce finished with your second leg, and let it return to the ground, sitting back in his chair. “You ain't a prisoner," he replied. "Not anymore. Now you're an employee," he grinned.

You snorted derisively.

"And you gotta steal the moments you can, sweetheart,” he said. “That’s all life is.”

Pierce stood, and motioned for you to do the same. “We should get this one on your shoulder. It’s looking pretty swollen.”

You stood, legs still slightly shaky. Pierce took your elbow to steady you, then shot you a half-smile as he unwound the last tensor. He leaned forward, and his chest pressed lightly to yours as he wound the ice pack around your torso. Once again, the heat of his proximity made you catch your breath.

God help me. You'd officially lost it. Or maybe you were just tired of being alone, and on the run, and only being touched when someone wanted to hurt you.

“I was trying to use my mutation,” you admitted suddenly, distracted by Pierce’s nearness. “In the hallway. That's why I ... that's why that happened. But I can't, right now. I don’t know why it did that to me.”

Pierce leaned away slightly, enough to look down at your face. He was so close that you could see the flecks of oceanic blue in his eyes, and the remnants of a scar marring the corner of one of his eyebrows.

“Huh,” he said, finishing securing the tensor and stepping back. “And you don’t think it might have something to do with the fact that you nearly died half a dozen different ways the last few weeks?”

Your gaze slid sideways, and you considered the possibility. Could the block in your power be just that? Exhaustion?

It was possible. Hell, considering everything your body had been through in the last month, it would be a miracle if your abilities were at full strength. But some part of you knew that the wound went even deeper than that. It stemmed from all the emotions – and the realities – that you were currently working hard to shut down, conceal, and ignore.

You shrugged noncommittally, and were about to move back to your chair when Pierce reached out and caught one of your hands. His hand was firm and callused, and lifted yours towards him as he examined the white striations which wound up your wrist like twining vines.

Lightning scars, from one of your first forays into the world of the Ether.

You pulled your arm away, breaking the contact. And you were about to take a step back, when a sudden mad idea rushed into your head.

Without stopping to think, you took a step forwards, closing the distance between you as you wound a hand around the back of Pierce's neck. Your fingers traced through his hair, and it felt as you'd imagined. Soft.

Pierce stilled, eyes locking with yours. For a moment, you stood close to one another, breathing each other in. Then, when he didn't pull away, you slowly closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

For a moment Pierce was still and rigid against you – surprised or disgusted, you couldn't tell – but then he responded to the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. His lips were hot against yours, and all thoughts fled from your mind as the kiss deepened.

His tongue parted your lips, tasting you. You found yourself wrapping your arm more firmly around his neck to bring your bodies more tightly against one another, and Pierce responded, one of his hands grasping your hip to anchor you to him while the other trailed up your back.

When he took your lip between his teeth and bit it, the pleasure in the twinge of pain made you gasp.

The moment stretched out, interminably long, as you lost yourself in the kiss.

Then you pulled away, breaking the embrace.

You didn't know what had brought you back to your senses, but you stood, breathing hard, as you stared at Donald Pierce. Your pulse was racing.

Pierce was breathing hard, too, and a bemused smile crept across his face as you watched.

“So, how long have you been waiting to do that?” He asked, dragging a thumb across his bottom lip. His eyes glinted with predatory amusement.

How long – you hadn't been waiting to do that, and now that you'd done it you could barely believe that you had.

"I – should be getting back to my rooms," you said, hiding your flushing cheeks by turning away and starting towards the door.

Pierce followed.

"Alright, sugar," he replied. "I'll take you. Third floor, isn't it?"

You glanced back at him, and let out a breath of exasperation. "Figures you know where I live. And I'll be fine to get there; it's not far."

You didn't know what you were feeling at that moment, and would rather be away from him while you untangled it all.

Pierce sighed. "Yeah, but you ain't in good shape, and I don't want all my hard work to go to waste," he said, nodding to your legs and shoulder.

He proffered you his arm.

"Besides, I don't mind."

You stood still for a moment, looking between him and his outstretched hand. Then you turned your gazed skywards, and sent out a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening.

Please let me not be out of my fucking mind for this.

You stepped forwards, and took his arm.

***

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